Derailed
by Marguerite1
Summary: 5-item improv challenge fic from The Scriptorium


**DERAILED **  
  
Classification: Scriptorium Improv fic - elements listed at end.  
Summary: Everything's stranger on a train.  
  
  
***  
  
"When the weather's so bad that Air Force One can't take off, don't you think  
it's a sign that we should stay home?"  
  
Toby asked the plaintive question of CJ as they shared a taxi to Union Station.  
CJ took off her reading glasses and smirked at him as she replied.  
  
"Would you want to go up in an airplane while visibility is zero? Just relax.  
Traveling by rail is a wonderful experience. Where's your sense of adventure?"  
  
"At home, under the covers, with a hot cup of coffee and three newspapers." Toby  
grimaced as he looked out the rain-splattered window at the dark, forbidding  
sky. "Air Force One can't get us there, yet we still have to go."  
  
"Yes, we do, because if the weather clears then the President will go ahead and  
meet us there. If not, then we'll stand in as the heart and soul of the Bartlet  
campaign. I'll be the spokesperson and you and Sam will be responsible for the  
spoking."  
  
"CJ?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"It's not a word, 'spoking.' Just thought you'd need to know that before you get  
up and represent us."  
  
"Your mood really does get worse along with the weather. You're Barometer!Boy,  
you know that?"  
  
Toby blinked at her a few times and made a low humming sound, then closed his  
eyes and leaned back in his seat. He was almost happy not to have to deal with  
the bounces and jolts of air travel on a stormy day, but the thought of spending  
hours on commuter rail did a lot to dampen what little enthusiasm he could  
muster.  
  
When they arrived at the station CJ wrinkled her nose at the distance they'd  
have to walk to the entrance. She shouldered her belongings and Toby did the  
same. He nudged her with his elbow, indicating that he'd walk on the curb side  
whether she rolled her eyes at him or not.  
  
The woman coming toward them radiated weariness. A tow-headed baby screamed from  
the harness on the mother's chest. Her hands were laden with duffel bags and  
diaper bags, and a toddler, a blond boy of about four, was running around her in  
circles. He shot imaginary guns at passers-by, jostling his mother and the  
multiple bags she carried.  
  
"Jason, I'm going to put you in time-out," the woman mumbled, but the boy she  
called Jason didn't seem at all concerned about a threat that appeared to have  
been both vague and without substance. The child richocheted around a few more  
passengers before landing squarely in front of CJ's feet.  
  
In slow motion, Toby saw CJ stumble, saw himself reaching out for her, saw his  
arms go around her.  
  
Saw his laptop case go flying into a foot-deep mud puddle.  
  
Saw stars as he and CJ collided heavily with the wet pavement.  
  
Jason, who lay nose-to-nose with Toby, began to howl. Toby ignored him, helping  
CJ to her feet before plucking his laptop out of the muck. He heard the woman  
cooing to the little boy. "It's okay, honey. They're just mean people who don't  
like children."  
  
"I do like children," Toby commented sotto voce. "Lightly broiled, with a side  
of polenta."  
  
CJ snickered. The woman gathered her children closer and huffed as she sped  
away. "You okay?" Toby asked.  
  
"I'm fine, just a little soggy. You?"  
  
"About the same. I suspect that this," he said with a grimace, holding the case  
as far away from himself as he could, "is a dead loss, but Sam will have his and  
we'll work off that one."  
  
They were met at the door by a uniformed steward. "Mr. Ziegler, Ms. Cregg, I'm  
Donald Lewis and I'll be taking care of your group this morning. We put the  
press in one car and closed off another one for your party. It's got a makeshift  
desk and some chairs, and I'm assigning a steward to you in case there's  
anything you need."  
  
"Thank you," CJ said, brushing the mud from her coat before walking into the  
terminal. "We've had a little bit of a rocky start."  
  
"I can see that," Donald said sympathetically. "I'll find someone to get your  
coats as clean as possible before you get to Providence. Mr. Seaborn's already  
aboard and he's waiting for you." He led them to their platform and opened the  
door for them.  
  
"You'll be on board?" CJ asked.  
  
"Unfortunately, no, but I'll send your coats up front and someone will bring  
them back to you before you reach Providence. Have a pleasant trip - it's an  
honor to have you traveling with us."  
  
With a nod of thanks Toby followed CJ into the car. They found Sam sitting at  
the desk, typing in a steady rhythm, his glasses making a gradual descent toward  
the end of his nose. "Hey," he said without missing a keystroke.  
  
"Hi. Got everything under control?" CJ inquired.  
  
"I think so." He paused to push his glasses back up, then leaned backwards in  
his seat. "You two are a bit of a mess."  
  
"Why thank you, Sam, you're the soul of gentility," CJ muttered. She set her  
overnight bag down on the pair of seats opposite Sam and began to rummage  
through it. "I'll go freshen up. You two, get this thing finished as soon as  
possible, would you?"  
  
"Wouldn't you rather wait until we actually set foot in Rhode Island? Wouldn't  
you prefer it if we handed you the speech hot off the presses, with the ink  
still wet?" Toby asked as he settled down next to Sam and looked over his  
shoulder. "Speaking of ink, how are we printing this thing once we get to  
Providence?"  
  
"Portable. Got it in my extra bag, and as backup I had Ginger call the hotel to  
confirm that we can use whatever facilities they have available."  
  
"See?" Toby held his hands up in the air. "Sam has everything under control."  
  
"We'll see how long it lasts," CJ grumbled as she headed toward a restroom.  
  
Toby sighed as he opened his laptop case and found his computer covered with  
splotches of mud. "I should just carry this right out in the open for all the  
good the case does," he complained.  
  
"See if it starts," Sam supplied helpfully as he began typing again.  
  
The computer gave an unhappy wheeze but the screen began to glow. Toby wiped off  
a streak of mud and put his finger on the trackpad.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"It's dead," Toby grunted.  
  
"It's on," Sam replied, not really looking at the item in question.  
  
"It's a ghost of its former self." Toby's voice rose as the keys refused to do  
anything when he poked at them. "I don't believe this."  
  
Sam finally turned and glanced at the computer. "It's not a crisis. Just give me  
the disk. I'll type, and you can kibbutz."  
  
"That's kibbitz, Sam. A kibbutz is a commune."  
  
"Well, this is a communal effort."  
  
"Do the windows on this train open, or are they just ornamental?"  
  
"I'll just type, then."  
  
After giving Sam a murderous glare, Toby started fishing through his pockets for  
the zip disk. "Here."  
  
"Thanks." Sam inserted it into the drive, then stopped and stared at the screen.  
"It says it can't read the disk."  
  
"What the hell...?" Toby looked at the glowing screen, then leaned forward to  
check the front of Sam's laptop. "You brought the Dell?"  
  
"It's what I've been using. The keyboard is more ergonomic."  
  
"Sam, I have a G4. This disk is for a Mac. You knew I was bringing the G4."  
  
"I didn't know you were gonna send it in for a mud bath!"  
  
The men glared at each other for a few moments in cold, contemplative silence  
before Sam spoke up. "You know what we should do?" he asked.  
  
"Put Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and a tiger in a small room and see who survives?"  
  
"No. We should just start trying to remember what we had and reconstruct it. I  
can take dictation. It'll be off the cuff, but with a certain internal  
structure..."  
  
"Fine." Toby closed his eyes, trying to recreate the document in his mind.  
"Okay, here we go."  
  
***  
  
"How's it going?"  
  
CJ's question was greeted with irritated glances.  
  
"Not so well," Sam's voice was quiet yet it still managed to convey strain and  
distress. "We have a compatibility problem. Not that kind," he put in quickly  
when CJ raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Plus, the damn cell phone...there it goes again!" Toby opened the device and  
bellowed something that could loosely be construed as "hello." He scowled, then  
folded the phone up and tossed it on the table. "Every three minutes. There's no  
one on the other end."  
  
"Well, someone's on the other end," CJ said mildly, "or else you wouldn't be  
getting the calls."  
  
"Sprint PCS sucks," Toby declared before turning his attention back to Sam.  
"That's close, but it's not quite what I had on the disk."  
  
"If you'd tell me what you had--"  
  
"If you'd brought a computer that matched mine--"  
  
"Guys," CJ interrupted. "Take ten, would you?"  
  
Toby got up and stretched, wincing as his back popped. "I'm going to get some  
coffee," he said.  
  
"We have a guy," CJ told him.  
  
"I need to stretch my legs, maybe throw my laptop overboard." He glared at the  
offending computer. "Or else I can take it with me and try to swill some of the  
crap out from between the keys. I'll be back."  
  
On the way out he encountered the steward. "I know this is...weird. But we're on  
a deadline and I need a laptop like this one. A Mac." He pointed to the  
computer. "Could you see if you can find one, or borrow one from someone in the  
press car, whatever?"  
  
The steward nodded and headed toward the front of the train. Toby went into the  
men's room and spent several futile minutes trying to use the edge of a paper  
towel to get between the keys. Logic prevailed and he gave up, got a cup of  
coffee, and returned to his own car.  
  
CJ was folding up the cell phone, staring at it with malevolence in her eyes.  
"God, it rings and rings and rings but no one's there! It's driving me insane!"  
  
"Told you," Toby said.  
  
"Did you get it to work?" Sam asked. He had stopped typing and was taking a bite  
out of a large red apple.  
  
"I doubt it. You brought lunch?"  
  
"No, I wanted to ask the steward for coffee but he was gone, so CJ and I went to  
find some. When we came back, this was on the desk."  
  
Toby began to say that the situation was weird but thought better of it. He and  
Sam went back to work, CJ fielding the mystery phone calls every few minutes  
until she finally gave up and removed the battery. "I dare one of you to make a  
comment."  
  
No one did. Toby kept his eyes closed, trying to remember more of the speech,  
while Sam typed in hiccuping bursts.  
  
"Oh," Sam said, sounding discouraged. "Damn. My battery's almost out. CJ, can  
you get the adaptor out of the bag, please?"  
  
"And plug it into what, exactly?" she asked, indicating the lack of electrical  
outlets. "Don't you have a spare battery?"  
  
"I gave mine to Katie - hers was dead when she got on the train."  
  
"Well, get it back from her," Toby said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"It'd be...rude," Sam answered.  
  
CJ, moaning, stood up and started pacing around the car, blowing puffs of air on  
the surface of her coffee to cool it. "How much ruder would it be if we got to  
Providence, got to the hotel, got to the ballroom, and handed the President a  
big folder full of...nothing?"  
  
"Fair point," Sam sighed, and he got up from his chair just in time to collide  
with CJ, whose coffee spilled all over the front of his pants.  
  
Sam let out a yelp of pain. CJ reached for him with a napkin but he lurched  
backwards, pushing her away. "Do NOT rub that...on...ow." He put his hands in  
his pockets and pushed the fabric away from himself, shuffling his feet.  
  
"Katie will be unable to resist your charms," Toby said as CJ handed Sam all the  
napkins she could find. "I'll go get the damn battery. CJ, come with me."  
  
"What for?" CJ asked, then stopped herself from commenting further when she  
noticed that Sam was preparing to dab at the front of his trousers. "Right.  
Leaving. Now."  
  
Toby, CJ, and the Mac collided with the steward. "I really, really need one of  
these," Toby said, indicating his laptop.  
  
"I get, sir. I get." The man headed toward the front of the train while Toby  
prepared to charm Katie out of Sam's spare battery.  
  
***  
  
Ten minutes, a promise of a one-on-one sit-down with the President, and the  
telephone number of CJ's manicurist later, Toby and CJ returned to their car and  
found Sam feeding an apple to a little girl who was cuddled next to him.  
  
"Sam?" CJ and Toby asked in unison.  
  
"Ah. Yes. This is Amanda. Tell them how old you are, Amanda."  
  
"I'm five and a half," said the little girl, her brown curls bouncing as she  
chewed and swallowed vigorously.  
  
"And who do you belong to, honey?" CJ asked, sitting on her heels and smiling  
sweetly at the child.  
  
"To my friend, Sam," she answered. "Can I have some more apple, Sam?"  
  
"May I?"  
  
She giggled, showing a row of tiny white teeth. "May I have some more apple?"  
  
"Yes, you may." Sam held the fruit in front of Amanda, who took a huge bite that  
grazed the side of Sam's thumb. "Ow, careful!"  
  
"Sam, what are you doing?" Toby inquired, scratching his eyebrow with his  
thumbnail.  
  
"I went to the bathroom and when I came back, she was sitting under the desk.  
She said I was 'it,' so I gave her some of my apple."  
  
"And some of your fingerprints, too, if you're not careful. Why are you feeding  
her?"  
  
"She was under my desk! What was I supposed to do?"  
  
"Find her mother, maybe," Toby suggested. "Certainly not give food to a  
stranger's child - and where the hell did the apple come from?"  
  
"You shouldn't say the h-word," Amanda informed him after licking her  
fingertips. "Mommy makes Daddy put a dollar in the swear jar when he says that."  
  
"We should do that. What a way to pay down the budget deficit," CJ said,  
grinning.  
  
"Josh would be in the hole before noon." Sam chuckled at his own little joke.  
  
CJ offered her hand to the little girl. "Come on, Amanda, let's go find your  
mommy."  
  
"Okay. 'Bye!" Amanda chirped. She held her arms up to give a hug to Sam, then  
reached toward Toby, but her dark eyes got very round and she backed away,  
standing next to CJ with a frightened pout. Slowly she gave her sticky little  
hand to CJ, who shot a dirty look at Toby as she exited.  
  
"What was that for?" Toby asked.  
  
"You frightened her."  
  
"How? I was just standing here!"  
  
"Well, that's usually enough. Got the battery?"  
  
"Right here. Let's go..." Toby's voice trailed off as he saw the steward again.  
"Sir?"  
  
Everything in the man's posture demonstrated how difficult it was for him to  
avoid saying something unkind. He sighed. "I bring. I bring two, and I bring  
another one, and here are two." He produced a pair of apples from his pocket and  
presented them to Toby with a flourish.  
  
Toby stared at the apples, then at Sam, then at the steward. "What...?"  
  
The steward walked up to Toby and put his finger on the laptop's white logo.  
"You want? I bring."  
  
"An...apple."  
  
"Yes, sir. How many, you tell me, I bring."  
  
Sam turned away and took off his glasses. His shoulders were shaking. Toby,  
beaten, managed a smile as he reached into his pocket and took out a ten-dollar  
bill. "We're fine. Here. And thank you for the apples," he said as he pressed  
the money into the steward's palm.  
  
"I thank you, sir. You want more? I get you more."  
  
"No, thank you. We have...enough. Apples. Thank you."  
  
Sam could hardly contain himself any longer, bursting into loud snorting  
laughter the instant the steward was out of earshot. "He  
got...you...an...apple..."  
  
"Which you ate. And another one, which you gave to a stranger. So shut up and  
finish the speech." Toby pocketed one apple and took a large, crunchy bite of  
the other, chewing with his mouth open because he knew it would drive Sam crazy.  
  
***  
  
A very happy steward brought CJ's and Toby's coats back to them, much cleaner  
than when they had seen them last, as the train pulled into the station in  
Providence. Sam was napping, curled up in his seat with his suit jacket over his  
lap, and Toby was looking at the final draft of the speech. It was better than  
he had expected, amazing, really, when he thought about the circumstances, and  
his chest puffed up with pride at the thought of CJ reading those majestic words  
at the hotel in just under an hour.  
  
Their greatest triumphs almost always came on the heels of adversity. "Our  
greatest triumphs almost always come on the heels of adversity," he informed CJ,  
who was blotting her lipstick with a kleenex.  
  
"They do, indeed. We'll get to the hotel, print the thing out, and I'll be ready  
to give the speech in front of the Mayor and the whole town council." She  
grinned at him. "You guys never cease to amaze me."  
  
"We never cease to amaze ourselves, either. Come on, Sam," Toby said, poking Sam  
in the upper arm, "it's time to go kick some ass."  
  
"Yeah, that sounds good," Sam said around a yawn. He combed his hair and put his  
jacket on, buttoning it carefully to conceal the lingering dampness on his  
slacks. Toby grabbed both laptops, and with their belongings in hand they  
prepared to exit their car.  
  
The press car was still full of journalists who looked as if they had no  
intention of moving any time in the forseeable future. CJ held her hands out  
toward the windows. "What?" she shouted.  
  
A few secods later Mike emerged, his tie loosened, his hands empty. "Didn't you  
get the call?"  
  
"The call?" Sam asked. "What call would that be?"  
  
"One of my friends is the op-ed columnist for the Journal. She called me on my  
cell and said that the Mayor's son has appendicitis so the event's been  
cancelled. I gave her your number."  
  
"Our number," Toby said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.  
  
"Yeah, she said she called about twenty times but couldn't get through, so she  
tried again once it got closer to our arrival time. She left a message on your  
voice mail."  
  
"Which we--"  
  
"Haven't checked," Toby said, finishing Sam's sentence. "So we're supposed to go  
straight back?"  
  
"That's the plan. The train leaves in about ten minutes," Mike said, returning  
to the press car and closing the door.  
  
Sam looked at his shoes. "I'm gonna go walk around for a few minutes, maybe get  
something to drink. You guys want anything?"  
  
CJ and Toby shook their heads. "After you," Toby said as he guided CJ with a  
hand at the small of her back. Silent and more than a little morose, they went  
back to their car and put their bags on the seats behind the makeshift desk.  
  
Frowning, CJ put a hand to her ear. "Dammit."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I lost an earring. One of the pearl ones my brother gave me for my birthday.  
Would you look around for a minute?"  
  
Toby stooped over, shaking his head. "I don't see anything. Maybe it's outside."  
  
"No, I see it. Under the desk." CJ had to contort her long limbs to get to the  
earring, and as she rose, still fidgeting with the clasp, she banged her head on  
the table.  
  
"There's a table over your head," Toby informed her, smirking at her aggravated  
expression.  
  
"Ha, ha, ha. You're a riot. Give me a hand, would you?" She let Toby help her  
up, then they sat side by side, staring glumly ahead. "We wasted this entire  
day," CJ complained. "We have nothing to show for it."  
  
"Not in the least. I have...this apple." Toby produced one from his pocket.  
Glancing out of the side of his eye he polished it on CJ's skirt and presented  
it to her. "Comfort me with apples."  
  
"Just give me the damn thing." CJ snatched it from Toby's hand and bit into it,  
but her eyes twinkling at him. She held the apple toward him, but instead of  
taking it from her Toby leaned over and took a bite. Then he moved closer and  
bit into it again, close to CJ's hand.  
  
"Oh, for the love of--" Sam sputtered as he entered and caught sight of them.  
"What the hell...?"  
  
Toby smiled at him. "She was under my desk, Sam. What was I supposed to do?"  
  
***   
End   
***   
Elements:   
1. a daytime train ride in the rain   
2. Toby and Sam's keyboards stop working in the middle of an important speech   
3. a phone ringing incessantly but with no one on the other end   
4. an apple mysteriously appearing on someone's desk   
5. the dialogue: "She was under my desk! What was I supposed to do?"  
  
The suckage of Sprint PCS brought to you by Ryo's Rants. :)  
  
Feedback would be welcome at Marguerite@operamail.com .  
Back to West Wing .  
  



End file.
